


Fifth Time's a Charm

by anAwfulLotofRunning



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Coming Out, Friendship, Gen, LGBT, Lawrence Kansas, M/M, Novak Family, human!Cas, religious concerns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anAwfulLotofRunning/pseuds/anAwfulLotofRunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of a 17 year old Castiel, as he comes out five times, to the important people in his life. AU, T.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Novak Empire/First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Cas has a lot of shame about who he is at the beginning of the story. His internal commentary here are _not_ the views of the author. This will be a “coming-out-and-accepting-yourself” fic, not a “dont-be-gay” fic. It will be a process, but Cas will get there. Just be patient with him :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Castiel James Novak came out of the closet, it was an accident.

The first time Castiel James Novak came out of the closet, it was an accident.  
  
His televangelist father and his Bible-Believing mother caught him holding hands with a boy, and reeled with shock like the world had ended.  
  
”Do you know what the press will do with this?” his mother had hissed. “This could ruin our reputation. Our family. Our careers! Did you even think about us, for one second? Have you forgotten that we live every day in the public eye? We are role models for the nation; trend-setters for the youth. What kind of message do you think this sends, Castiel?”  
  
He didn’t answer, and that was it.  
  
Now he is (literally) being hurled from the house, onto a perfectly manicured lawn, without so much as a coat or a wallet. Thankfully, he is prepared.  
  
He sneaks to the back of the mansion, climbs from the garden gazebo onto the roof, and snatches his hidden bag full of clothes and cash under his bed.  
  
He lowers the bag to the ground with a rope, and begins to follow, down the trellis and out into...well, whatever comes next.  
  
Then he remembers Anna--sweet little Anna--and stops. He wills himself to climb back through the window, into his former home, one more time to say goodbye.  
  
There is child-sized doorway that connects their two closets. Anna has used it many times to sneak into his room: Sometimes to calm down after a nightmare, but often just to stay up late without getting caught.  
  
Now, he uses it to sneak into hers.  
  
Anna looks up as he crawls through the tiny door, throwing aside her doll and rushing over to him with worried eyes. She must have heard the shouting coming from downstairs, even though she wasn’t allowed to witness the fight.  
  
“Cassie?” she whispers, eyes wide. “Why are they yelling a' you?”  
  
He sighs, considers lying. Discards the thought and rubs a hand through dark hair. “I have to go away for awhile, Anael. It’s going to be okay.”  
  
She furrows her brows, considering him. She is hushed and earnest when she speaks again. “Can I come with you?”  
  
He hugs her tight, wishing he didn’t have to explain that he was leaving because their parents were hateful, because they considered their own son to be an abomination. Because he himself was wrong, had always been twisted and impure, but couldn’t find anything else to be.  
  
And oh he had tried.  
  
But it doesn’t matter, because he is this and nothing more, and he is here, saying goodbye to his baby sister, breaking the heart of a five year old girl.  
  
“I’ve got to go on my own, Anael,” he says and runs a hand through her tangled red hair. “I wish more than anything that I could stay.”  
  
She is crying now, begging him not to go, but he has to to, and he has to hurry before his parents realize that he is still in the house.  
  
So Cas does what Gabe did for him, when he left five years ago. He teaches Anna his new phone number, makes her say those ten digits over and over again until they are memorized.  
  
“Say them before you go to sleep tonight, and every night after that. And if you ever need anything, anything Anael, you call me. I don’t care if it’s four am. You call. Okay?”  
  
She nods, jutting her chin out like she’s trying to be brave, to hold back more tears.  
  
He moves to the window, stares at his suitcase waiting for him on the ground below. “I have to go now,” he says.  
  
He bends down to hug her, and she gives him a sloppy kiss right on his nose.  
  
He climbs out her window, down the trellis, and walks away to the sound of a little girl’s sobs.  
  
~  
  
The bus ride out of Missouri is blessedly quiet. On this greyhound bus full of vagrants, he is no one. No longer a famous televangelist son, struggling under the weight of public image. Just a scrawny kid in an oversized black hoodie, staring out at the southern rain.  
  
He’s two states over by the time he calls Gabriel. 555-468-1253. Just like he memorized five years ago.  
  
His brother answers on the third ring. He sounds drunk.  
  
“It’s me,” Castiel says quietly, hoping he is still welcome to call.  
  
“Cassie?” Gabe says, and there is a smile in his voice. “That you, kid?”  
  
Cas smiles back. “I hope that it was acceptable to call at this hour.”  
  
Gabe laughs. “Yep, you’re as prim and proper as I remember. Course it’s okay, little bro. I said anytime, didn’t I? Wait, are you in some sort of trouble? I haven’t heard from you in months.”  
  
“I’m...good.” Cas says, warily. He’s not ready to talk about it yet.  
  
“Uh huh.” Gabe sounds sceptical, but then again he always does. “Where are you?”  
  
“Oklahoma, I think?”  
  
“Shit,” Gabe says. He is suddenly quiet, sober. “They found out.”  
  
It’s not a question, but Cas answers anyway. “Last night,” he says. “Threw me out onto the lawn and everything.”  
  
“Shit,” Gabe says again.  
  
They are both quiet for a minute. Cas can hear water running in the background, and guesses that Gabe is taking a piss.  
  
The water stops.  
  
“Well?” Gabe says. “Are you coming over here or what?”  
  
“Would that be an imposition?” Cas asks meekly. “I have some money saved up if you’d like...”  
  
“Don’t be a dick,” Gabe says, lightly. “We’re family. Get your ass over here before I have to hunt you down and drag you across state lines.”  
  
Cas is too tired to argue, so he hangs up and obeys.  
  
~  
  
Gabe, it turns out, lives in small-town Kansas. “Best place to shake the paparazzi,” Gabe explains.  
  
Cas doesn’t know why his brother was disowned, but he thinks it might have something to do with embezzlement. Or blackmail. And possibly a sex scandal that his parents wanted to keep from the press.  
  
Gabe grins as he leads Cas around his tiny house. He does pirouettes as he goes, showing Cas everything with grand theatrical gestures.  
  
It’s really just a shoebox, sandwiched between antique stores and strip clubs in a mildly questionable part of town.  
  
“It’s historical,” Gabe explains, proudly, when Cas asks why it is the only house on the block. “They couldn’t tear it down, so they built up the town around it.”  
  
Some town, Cas thinks, but he is glad to have somewhere, anywhere to stay.  
  
The entire house--save the bedroom and tiny bathroom--is one large room, broken up by couches, a tv, and a kitchen counter.  
  
“Where shall I put my things?”  
  
“You can crash in my room for now, as I’ve scored some alternate sleeping arrangements for the moment.” He winks lewdly at Cas, who looks nonplussed.  
  
“I’ve got a girlfriend, you goon. Hot too. Older woman and everything. So you’ll have the house to yourself for a couple of days. After that, I’m thinking we should hire the Singer boys to fix the attic up for you. It’s dusty, but it’ll be posh once it’s fixed up. It just needs a little lovin’ that’s all.”  
  
Cas nods, grateful and confused and overwhelmed at the same time. He feels like a man in exile, but he is glad to have somewhere to land.  
  
“Thanks, Gabe,” he says to the ground.  
  
Gabe stops whirling around the apartment, stills his frenzied motion. He sounds more serious that Cas has ever heard when he says, quietly, “I’m just glad you got out.”  
  
Cas nods, and the spinning begins again.  
  



	2. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second time Cas comes out, it's a gamble.

Cas notices Sam Singer because, well, Sam is hard to miss. He is the vice president of the senior class, a track star, and the captain of the surprisingly well-respected Mathletes team. He is also 6 foot 4.  
  
Cas gives a little start when Sam approaches him in class on his first day in school.  
  
“Hey James,” Sam says, casually. “How’s it going?”  
  
Cas forgets for a moment that he is James now. James Milton. He changed his name to avoid the press following him here, just like Gabe had done five years ago.  
  
Cas mumbles a response, and then clears his throat and tries again. “Hello Sam. How did you know my name?”  
  
Sam laughs, and his grin is huge and inviting.  
  
“There are about 40 of us in the senior class, if you hadn’t noticed. It’s not too hard to remember a new name.”  
  
Sam tries to sit on the desk next to Cas, almost falls, flails for a minute, and stands again.    
  
Cas notices that it’s a bit adorable.  
  
“So, biology, huh?” Sam asks, and gestures to the classroom around them. “You any good at reading tiny chicken scratch on a chalkboard from 20 feet away?”  
  
“No, I don’t believe I--”  
  
“Come on.” Sam pulls him lightly by the elbow, and Cas follows him easily up to the front of the room. “Since you’re already wearing glasses, you probably need to be closer to the board.”  
  
For a moment, Cas thinks he’s being mocked. Then he notices that Sam sits besides him at an oversized desk. The other students filing into the classroom all sit up front as well, fighting for seats as close as possible.  
  
When Mr. Murray begins the lecture, talking in a soft voice and writing indistinguishable notes on the board, Cas is glad he took Sam’s advice.  
  
~  
  
“So,” Sam says, once class is over. “Do you need help catching up with the work around here? It must suck to be in a brand new school.”  
  
“No I--” Cas opens his mouth without thinking, and then changes tactic. “Actually, that would be very kind. Thank you.”  
  
The truth is, after three years at the prestigious St. Dominic’s Secondary Academy, the classes at Lawrence are all but redundant. Cas has considered dropping out four times already, and it is only his first day.  
  
But Sam seems genuine and easy to talk to, and Cas needs a friend. So he gives the other boy a small smile, accepts the phone number Sam is offering, and shuffles awkwardly out the door.  
  
~  
  
“Cassie my boy, meet Sam and Dean.”  
  
“Cas?” Sam asks, curiously. He and “Dean,” who is apparently his brother, are in Cas and Gabe’s living room for the first time. They are both wearing work boots, dirty clothes, and tool belts.  
  
Cas blushes, embarrassed that he lied about his name to his only friend, but Gabe slings an arm around him easily.  
  
“He’s in witness protection, like me.”  
  
Dean, who has been texting on an ancient-looking cell phone, looks up to snort. “What, is he in the mafia too? You have some freaky friends, man.”  
  
“Not a freak,” Castiel says quietly. No one seems to hear, and he is glad.    
  
Dean snaps the cell phone shut and rubs his hands together, brisk and businesslike.  
  
“So,” he asks, “What do you morally questionable folk need fixed around here?”  
  
“The attic,” Gabe says. He leads them all up the wood ladder, into a surprisingly well-lit space. “We’re fixing it up for my little bro here. I’m thinking with a little insulation, carpet and paint, he will have his own sweet pad.”  
  
Dean nods, looks around. He tosses Sam a tape measure and they go to work, moving deftly around the room. Cas watches as they measure out the entire space in thirty seconds, moving in sync. Then they go around knocking at the walls and ceiling.  
  
Gabe announces he’s craving a frappacino, and leaves them to it, but Cas stays to watch.  
  
He can’t help but notice that although Sam is cute, Dean is drop-dead gorgeous. He’s well-built and green-eyed: things that Cas could easily get used to.  
  
He realizes that he is staring openly at Dean’s ass and blushes. Stop it, he chides himself. You don’t even know this guy. He is most likely straight. And older than you. And your friend’s brother. And way out of your league.  
  
But still. He didn’t come out of the closet only to deny himself the pleasure of a beautiful view. So when the boys aren’t looking at him, he takes a good long look at Dean Winchester.  
  
~  
  
“Would it be impolite to ask why your last name is different than your brother’s?”  
  
Sam grimaces, and Cas wonders if he has crossed a line. They are at Bobby Singer’s kitchen table, books and notes spread out in front of them.  
  
“Not rude,” Sam says, and there is no annoyance in his voice. “It’s complicated though.”  
  
“Oh,” Cas says quietly. “Shall we get started on the English, then?”  
  
Sam has taken to inviting him over twice a week, to study while the house is quiet. Cas thinks that Sam is secretly grateful for the company.  
  
They read over their English assignment: three mini-essays about Moby Dick. Cas is about to start on the first answer when Sam blurts out: MydadwasadrunkandIdidntwanthislastnameanymorebutDeandid.  
  
Cas waits for Sam to take a breath and try again.  
  
“My dad died last year, and my mom was already gone, so Bobby took us in. Dean got his own place when he turned 18, and he goes by Eddie Van Halen at work, but when he’s with friends he still uses my dad’s last name. I think he’s pretty pissed that I don’t. But I was 16 when I got here, and Bobby legally adopted me, and it’s not like my dad was ever great to me, so...”  
  
Sam’s shoulders slump a little as he trails off.  
  
“Oh,” Cas says. And he wants to tell sweet, happy Sam that it’s okay, and that other people probably understand. “I lost my parents too,” is all he says.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You okay?  
  
“Yeah. Are you okay?”  
  
“Usually, yeah. It’s too quiet here without Dean around, but he’s a pain in the ass anyway, so it’s mostly alright.”  
  
They are quiet again, studying. Cas watches Sam work and suddenly feels guilty for pretending to need help with school just to get Sam to hang out with him. He also feels like he should try to be honest too, since Sam was just so honest with him.    
  
“I must confess something,” he says, and Sam looks up. His eyes are glazed now, from reading the text.  
  
“I have not been completely honest with you. I do not actually require any academic assistance.”  
  
Sam laughs. “I know, dude. You should probably be tutoring me. It’s just nice to hang out. No one’s home until 8 most nights. It’s why I do so many clubs at school; it gets pretty quiet around here.”  
  
And then, even though Cas knows he shouldn’t--knows he will probably thrown out Kansas, or become the school pariah--he decides to get his biggest secret off his chest.  
  
“I’ve...also been lying about who I am. I...I...Sam, I’m gay.”  
  
“That’s cool,” Sam says, and he looks completely unfazed. “I’m not, but I completely suck with girls. Oh, but I have a couple of gay friends at school, if you want to meet them. I think there is a Q club, too.”  
  
Cas almost falls out of his chair. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t that. He first wants to faint, then giggle, then sob with relief.  
  
Sam asks if he’s hungry, and when Cas nods he appears with four whole boxes of Hot Pockets and an entire gallon of milk. They eat and talk and laugh and study, and Cas knows that everything and nothing has changed. 


	3. A Break for Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little break, and a surprise for Cas!
> 
> (Can you spot the Buffy reference? I'll be a Whedon fangirl to the end ;)

    Life gets better one day at a time. Gabe is still staying with his girlfriend--Kali, Cas finally learns--until the attic is habitable and Cas can move upstairs. Without the spacious second story in use, there isn’t breathing room for two in the house.  
  
    Cas doesn’t mind the quiet. He likes waking up in comfortable silence, likes padding out barefoot to make coffee in the cold of the morning. He likes to play his own music before bed, and not explain himself to anyone.  
  
Gabe comes at night to check in and make dinner. Gabe is a surprisingly decent cook. He makes exotic curries and noodle dishes, all the while raving about his smoking hot sugar mamma.  
  
Two nights in, Gabe catches Cas looking longingly at the sparse, crooked bookshelf on the living room wall.  
  
He slings an arm around Cas, following his gaze. “What’s up baby bro? You look like a kicked puppy.”  
  
“My books,” Cas says mournfully. “I forgot all of my books.”  
  
“No problem!” Gabe says cheerfully. “Have some porn.” He pulls out a large red box from one of the shelves, and shoves it in to Cas’s arms.  
  
Cas wrinkles his nose, scandalized. “Gabrial Novak!”  
  
“What? Too many vaginas for you? I’ve got some gay stuff in there too, you know. I don’t discriminate.” He winks.  
  
Cas groans, glares, and stalks off to find his history textbook. Doing redundant history homework is far less annoying than talking to Gabe.    
  
    ~  
  
    The next morning Cas wakes alone, as usual. He stretches in the silence, relishing the cold morning air on his half bare skin. He dunks his head in the bathroom sink for a moment, trying in vain to smooth down his wild black hair.  
  
    Then he yawns, and stumbles toward the kitchen, still half asleep.  
  
    Part way there, he trips over something hard and sharp, and he sprawls onto the floor, suddenly awake.  
  
He has twelve kinds of curses worked up for his thoughtless, messy brother when he turns around to see what he has hit. It’s a book. With his name on it. And not just any book; a beautifully bound copy of Paradise Lost.  
  
    He runs his hands over the cover, reverent, breathes in the aging-paper smell. Then opens the plain white envelope that had been on top, addressed to him in Gabriel’s impossible scrawl.  
  
Inside is a plastic gift card.  
  
From: Gabe the Great  
To: Casanova  
$300 Gift Certificate to Raven’s Quality Used Booksellers.  
  
“Holy shit. Holy shit.”  
  
Cas only uses swear words on special occasions. Holding a golden ticket for a literary spree definitely qualifies.  
  
He clutches it tight in his hand as he reads the note.  
  
Hey bro!  
  
I’m awesome, right? You can tell me later that I’m the best brother ever.  
  
Since you were so high-and-mighty about the quality of my bookshelf material, I decided that it’s high time you get your own shit. I know I haven’t seen you in awhile, but I do remember that you get cranky if you aren’t up to your enormous ears in boring old books. So here you go baby bro! Stop looking like a sour nun and take yourself out shopping.  
  
And before you get all constipated and say you can’t accept this, that we can’t afford it, etc, let me just tell you to shut up and enjoy it. I make legal money these days, and if I want to use it to spoil you, then so what? You deserve it for what you’ve done this month. Consider it a coming out present.  
     
Alright. Enough chit chat. It’s Saturday, so get your lazy ass out of bed and go have a hayday. Bring that Sam kid with you to make him carry shit. That sounds entertaining.  
     
Love you, kid.  
  
    Gabe  
  
    The last word is actually a completely illegible scribble that might actually be a drawing of a nebula, but Cas is pretty sure it is Gabe’s version of a signature.  
  
    Cas doesn’t even stop to drink his coffee. He pulls on a shirt and jacket (not noticing that he is still wearing his sushi-patterned flannel pajama pants) and sprints out the door.  
  
    He’s power walking across town when he calls Sam, panting and ecstatic. “Meet me at Raven’s in a half hour, okay? I have something to show you.”  
  
    Sam yawns, grumbles something that might be assent, and hangs up the phone.  
  
    Cas doesn’t care. It is icy cold, and the wind is rough against his skin through too-thin layers of clothing. He has just lost everything, and he is scared of losing everything again with one wrong word to the wrong person. Every day he is disoriented, still reeling from all of the changes that he has and will face.  
  
But right now he is beelining toward a bookstore with cash in his pocket, and everything in the world is exactly right.  
  
~  
  
    Sam, surprisingly, is there on time. His shaggy hair is stringy and wet, and he smells like soap and lavender.  
  
    “You live near here, don’t you?” Cas asks, studying his friend with a crook of his head.  
  
    “Yep,” Sam grins. “Dean too. His place is just down the street from ours. So what do you have to show me?”  
     
    Cas holds up the card, proudly, and Sam’s mouth drops open. Then a silly grin spreads wide across his face.  
  
    “Awesome!” He says. “Let’s go!”  
  
    Sam, besides having spent a million hours in Raven’s, is tall enough to read all the signs, so he grabs Cas’s hand and leads him around. He talks excitedly about each section, questioning Cas about which books he most wants.  
  
    “Some historical fiction, I think,” Cas muses. “Some classic literature, and poetry, to start. I find myself partial to E.E. Cummings.”  
  
    They each take a basket and scour the shelves, Sam suggesting titles to Cas, and Cas picking out all of his old favorites.  
  
    At Cas’s insistence, Sam also chooses two for himself: Ender’s Game and the complete bound works of Hemingway.  
  
    “You’re a good person,” Cas explains. “And you help me out. You deserve books.”  
  
    They check out with two overflowing baskets, and still have money on the card to spare.  
  
    It isn’t until they reach the door that they realize the flaw in their plan. It is now pouring rain, and they have two very large bags full of books.  
  
    Cas knows he is almost four miles from home at this point. The walk over was easy--it was still dry out, and he was too excited to think about anything else. But now he is tired, and hungry, and not quite strong enough to carry 50 pounds of books quite that far.  
  
    “Well this is unfortunate.”  
  
    “Yeah.” Sam looks in awe at the pounding hail. “Especially since Bobby is gone this weekend. Can Gabe pick us up?”  
  
    Cas sighs. “Working. What about Dean?” he tries to keep his voice neutral, even when his belly does a little dance at the mention of the beautiful boy.  
  
    Sam laughs. “Well, he’ll kill us first for waking him up on a Saturday, but yeah, sure. He’ll give us a ride.”  
  
~  
  
    Sam is right on both accounts. Dean works nights at a local bar, and he is none too pleased about being woken up and dragged out into the weather. He’s there in five minutes though, yelling at them to get in the car.  
  
    “Jesus,” he says. “What is all this?”  
  
    Sam rolls his eyes. “Books, Dean. You know, for reading?”  
  
    Dean lets out a huff, and smacks Sam lightly in the back of the head. “I read, bitch.”  
  
“Sure you do, jerk.”  
  
Cas can’t see the brothers’ faces, but he hears the easy affection behind the teasing. In a flash he remembers his own siblings, and his heart drop like an anchor. He discards the images, the missing, the want, and let’s himself smile at Sam and Dean’s playful banter.  
  
    Back at the Shoebox (Cas has now officially named his and Gabe’s little house) Dean offers to help them inside, and Cas doesn’t mind. They park down the street, and sprint to the house through the downpour, getting soaking wet as they go. All coats are used to keep the books dry, so they immediately strip off wet clothes and huddle around the space heater.  
  
    Dean does these little jumps from foot to foot, trying to warm up, and Sam stands shoulder to shoulder with Cas, sharing warmth.  
  
    Dean--who took the brunt of the rain--asks if he can borrow dry clothes. When Cas hands him sweatpants and a soft cotton tee, Dean strips off his shirt, and winks before Cas turns away, red to his ears.  
  
    Once they’re all warm and dry, all Cas can think is that he wants Dean to stay. But Dean is walking toward the door, fishing for his keys, so Cas blurts without thinking, “I have hot chocolate.” He feels his cheeks flush--what is he, four?--but then Dean smiles right at him.  
  
“Awesome.”  
  
    “Do you have the tiny marshmallows?” Sam asks eagerly.  
  
    “You’re a marshmallow,” mutters Dean.  
  
Sam kicks him in the shin, and Dean yelps and punches him in the arm.  
  
Cas laughs. “I’m sure we have marshmallows here somewhere. My brother is highly partial to high fructose corn syrup.”  
  
    He sends Sam and Dean to look through the books, and busies himself with preparing cocoa (complete with marshmallows) and a light, healthy snack. He likes to think that his mother has taught him to be a good host, even when he has little to work with.  
  
    After they are all warm and fed, no one seems inclined to go back outside. Saturdays, after all, were not made for being productive. Dean builds a fire in the little wood stove, and they sprawl out in the tiny living room, books covering the entire floor.  
  
    Hiding behind Gardner’s Art Through the Ages, Cas watches as Dean picks through the piles. Dean has a thoughtful look on his face, which sometimes changes to frustration or confusion. But mostly he is curious, intrigued.  
  
    He settles on a worn out copy of Slaughterhouse Five, and Cas quickly looks away before Dean can catch him staring.  
  
They read in silence, lazy and content. Before the afternoon is over, they are all asleep and snoring.  
  
    Gabe shows up at 5, like usual, and manages to draw penises on both Cas and Dean’s faces before either of them wake up.  
  
    Sam finds this hilarious, until he realizes he has half an eyebrow missing.  
  
    Cas yells at his brother, but only half-heartedly. The truth is, he is too thankful for the books and the house to be angry. He is just so overwhelmed and grateful to have a home. And that’s what it is, now that there are books. His books. The stories that have always made him who he is. And they are here, once more, with him. Something to tie him down, to make him stay.  
  
    When Gabe apologizes with a blazing smile, and offers to make them all homemade, cheese-and-basil-crust pizza for dinner, he is firmly forgiven by all parties.  
  
    After eating perfect, greasy, homemade pizza until his stomach actually aches, Cas leans back at the table. He watches Gabe and Dean talk business, smiles when Sam nods off and starts drooling on the table, and realizes that this, too, is the start of something.  
  
    People are never as reliable as books, of course, but this is something he hopes he can keep.  
  



	4. Momma Bear teaches English

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas goes to Q club for the first time (and he blames it on Becky and Sam.)
> 
> (Edited 10-8-14)

Castiel Novak is playing poker, in study hall, for the first time in his life.  
  
Not for the first time in his life, he’s losing.  
  
Across from him, Jo is waggling her eyebrows. “Come on, James, I know you’re a super secret ninja genius. Can’t you count cards? Betcha don’t know what I have.” The last two words are a sing-song.

Cas gives a little huff, and promptly folds.

Jo grins and pulls the entire pile of candy toward her. Then she shows her cards with a flourish. They are low, mismatched numbers; nothing that would have won her the pile.  
  
“Sucker.”  

Cas is just glad that they are playing for Skittles. He really doesn't have any money to lose.  
  
He leaves the poker table and ambles toward Sam, who hunched at a desk, frowning at a large stack of forms. Up close, Cas recognizes the Stanford logo, and several others besides.  
  
“College applications?” Cas inquires.  
  
Sam looks up in a wild-eyed panic. “Cas,” he wheezes, sounding like a dying man, “What if I don’t get in? I don’t know anything about college, and no one in my family can help. It’s not like Bobby went to college. What the hell am I supposed to write on these essays?”  
    
Cas isn’t sure how to help. He opens his mouth to say as much when--

“Ooh, you guys should totally come to Q club today!”  
  
Cas turns in surprise and sees a blonde girl named Becky, sitting close behind them. She is smiling broadly and twirling a bright purple pen between two fingers.  
  
He  feels a panic rising in his throat. _Does she know about me? Has Sam told her? Do I give off the impression that I am a homosexual? What will people do if they find out?_  
  
“Why would you say that?” he manages to squeak out.  
  
“It’s college application day,” she says brightly. “Everyone’s welcome, of course, gay,  straight, or anything in between. Mrs. Harville is going to give us tips on writing college essays. We also have four university students coming to share about what worked for them. I organized the event myself!”  
  
She smiles like the sun, and Cas can feel the pride she has in her club. He relaxes a bit, and smiles back.  
  
“Well, I don’t strictly need to attend, because I’m not applying for college,” he says, “but if Sam would like to go, I would be happy to support him.” He is not unaware of the irony of this statement.  
  
Sam coughs a little, but smiles and says, “That’d be awesome! Besides,” he grins, “I hear you have the best cookies in the school.”  
  
Becky squeals her delight and claps her dainty hands. “Perfect! I’ll put you on the list! Be in the band room at 3:30 sharp!”  
  
She turns back to her little pink notebook, and Cas feels like he has just survived a sudden, brief lightning storm. He tries not to think about it for the rest of the day.  
  
~  
  
Sam and Cas sit on the top riser, watching students trickle in to the band room for Q club. Soon the entire room is full.  
  
Most of the senior class has shown up, along with half of the junior class.  
  
“Wow,” says Cas, impressed. “This seems to be quite the social event.”  
  
“You okay?” Sam asks quietly. “Is this weird for you?”  
  
“Of course it isn’t,” Cas says, arily. “Why would it be?” He is finding it easiest to pretend that everything is normal. That he is simply James Milton, a nobody. Just a regular kid, instead of a fucked-up runaway with no plans for his future.  
  
Sam looks at him funny, but doesn’t say anything.  
  
Cas is soon accosted by Becky.

“Come on!” she says, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the stairs at a dangerous pace. “There are things to do, people to meet!”  
  
He is surprised, and more than a little frightened, but he finds he doesn’t mind being pulled through the crowd. It is nice to have someone (literally) drag him out of his thoughts, out of the bubble he has created for himself.  
  
She introduces him to two boys--Adam and Kevin, both juniors--and a girl named Lisa he recognizes from class.  
  
Lisa is polite and shy, looking up at him through a thick fringe of dark bangs.  
  
Adam and Kevin greet him with wide grins. Cas notices that they are holding hands. “Haven’t seen you in here before,” Adam says. “You’re new in town, yeah?”  
  
Cas nods, and he feels a bit of his shyness ebbing away.  
  
“How’d you get stuck in Kansas?” Adam is teasing, but he seems genuine, open. Cas answers with as much of the truth as he can.  
  
“My brother lives here, and he invited me to stay. I needed a...” _Place to stay? Escape route from my crazy, judgmental, world famous family?_ “...change of pace.”     
  
“That’s cool,” Adam says easily.

The four of them--Adam, Kevin, Lisa, and Cas--fall into a conversation about the Mathletes. “You can join if you want,” Lisa says, still shy. “We always need new members."  
  
“That is very kind of you,” Cas responds, sincerely. “I will take your offer into consideration.”  
  
She laughs a little, and looks at him funny. “You’re a strange one, James.”  
  
“Yep,” Adam says brightly. He claps Cas firmly on the back and winks with a grin. “I guess that makes him one of us.”  
  
~  
  
The cookies really are fantastic. Warm, gooey chocolate chip, snickerdoodles with extra cinnamon, and white chocolate macadamia nut to boot.

Cas lingers with Sam at the snack table, snatching as many as he can get away with.  
  
Mrs. Harville gives a presentation about college essays, and encourages them to ramp up their community service so they have more to write about.  
  
Then she and the university students split up and call names, to answer individual questions.  
  
At 4:45, Cas’s name still hasn’t been called. The event is over in 15 minutes, but he doesn’t mind. He really just came for the cookies, he tells himself.  
  
He leans back in a chair, wishing he had brought a book for company. Instead he scans the room, watching Sam talk to a pretty blonde girl. The girl is standing three steps up on the choir risers, just to be at eye level with Sam. Sam shifts side to side as they talk, but his smile is wide and genuine. Cas lets himself smile at how cute they are, and he hopes that things are going well for his friend.  
  
The other kids are mostly gone. The club leaders are putting the chairs back in place and clearing food off the snack table. Panic! At The Disco is playing over the room's sound system, and he watches Becky bounce along as she cleans.  
  
“James Milton?”

It’s Mrs. Harville, the English teacher, calling him over to one corner of the room.  
  
“How are you, James?” Mrs. Harville smiles warmly. Cas has her for World Lit and Senior English, so he knows that she is kind, fair, and sometimes scary.  
  
“I am well, Mrs. Harville. And yourself?”  
  
She laughs. “So polite. Just fine, son. Just fine. So, where are you planning to apply for college?”  
  
“Oh. I’m...not,” he admits. “It’s just...not for me.”  
    
She raises an eyebrow, “What are your plans then? You’re smart enough to do anything you put your mind to.”  
  
Cas blushes. “I must admit that I haven’t thought that far into the future. It’s been a...trying year.”  
  
She is quiet, thinking.  
  
Cas squirms. He is about to leave when she asks, “How is your Lewis essay going?”  
  
Cas’s eyes light up at the question, and the answer begins spilling out before he has even had time to think.

She laughs at his long monologue. “That is great, James! I like your enthusiasm. You are putting in good, solid work. That’s what I like to see.”  
  
She considers him then. “Are you gonna to tell me why you’re wasting that brain of yours by not applying to college?”  
  
His mouth falls open. He glances around nervously, afraid that someone will overhear, but the music is still loud enough that their conversation is private. “I am...uninterested at the moment. College simply does not appeal to me.”  
  
She looks at him, hard. “I am not supposed to swear in front of my students, son, but I call bullshit. You’ve got a big brain and you might as well use it. Give me one good reason why you won’t even apply. Just one.”  
  
Cas looks down, and he suddenly feels like he might cry. He is overwhelmed by all of the things he has been trying so hard to not think about. He feels like he might break, like he has to either cry or talk. So he lets the story tumble out.  
  
“I got kicked out of my house,” he says, not looking at her. “A month ago. I didn’t know where to go, so I came to live with my brother...Jorge.” He is careful to use Gabe’s alias instead of his real name. “He’s the only family I have left, and he doesn’t make a lot of money, and I don’t want to ask him anyway. He’s has his own life, and a girlfriend, and I don’t want to bother him with my problems. If I were to apply to college, I would like it to be my decision and my responsibility.  
  
“I haven’t found work yet,” _mostly because I don’t have a legal ID_ , he thinks, “But even when I do, it won’t be enough to cover college expense. Did you know it costs $50 just to apply? All I really want right now is a place to sleep that is my own, but that is not an option until the attic is finished.”  
  
He stops, shakes his head sharply, comes back to himself. He wills his breathing to return to normal, then shields himself again with practiced, formal speech.  
  
“It is true I lack plans for the grand scheme of my life. But who could blame me? It is hard to plan for the future when the present is uncertain.  
  
“And anyway,” he finishes, trying to sound much more flippant than he feels, “it seems unwise to make plans if I lack the means to go through with them.”  
  
“There are scholarships, you know.” Mrs Harville’s voice is just a touch softer than usual. “I can help you find them. I have students every year that need financial help, so I know most of the tips and tricks.”  
  
Cas looks up, surprised. “There are scholarships?” He hadn’t even considered the possibility. Growing up in wealth insulates you from the real world, he supposes.  
  
“Sure there are,” she laughs. “And you’re a great candidate, James. Come to my room tomorrow after school and I’ll help you get started. Deal?” she asks, and holds out a hand to shake on it, looking mock serious.  
  
Cas smiles. “Deal.”  
  
He leaves school feeling lighter than he has in weeks. Maybe the future won't be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Becky adopts Castiel.


	5. Becky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time he comes out...it's not exactly what he expects.

The next day at lunch, Becky adopts him.  
  
“Ooh James! You have to sit with us!” She grabs his hand and drags him to a table where Adam and Kevin are already seated. They chat over lunch, and even though Cas feels his usual anxiety, he finds he’s able to relax just a bit.  
  
When the bell rings, Becky grabs his hand again, and promptly escorts him to their next class.    
  
He finds he doesn’t mind much. She is bubbly and cheerful, and Cas inexplicably likes listening to her endless rants about gay fanfiction.  
  
It soon becomes habit. They eat together, sit together in classes sometimes. Becky talks and Cas listens, and it gives a nice rhythm to his otherwise boring days. He hangs out with Sam too of course, but Sam is friends with the entire school and Cas doesn’t see him much during the day. So he is glad of Becky’s company.  
  
On Friday, she meets him at his locker after school. “Wanna watch a movie tonight?” she asks, in her usual cheerful tone.  
  
“Perhaps. Which film would you like to see?”  
  
“Whatever,” she shrugs. “I just thought it would be fun to hang out.”  
  
Cas nods. “That sounds nice. My brother is gone for the weekend, and I would appreciate the company.”  
  
“Great!” she beams. “Your place or mine?”  
  
He considers. “My brother has a state-of-the-art flat screen we can use.”  
  
Her smile widens. “Awesome! See you tonight!”  
  
To his surprise, she gives him a quick peck on the cheek, then turns on her heals and skips away.  
  
Cas suddenly has a bad feeling about tonight.  
  
He worries about it all the way home. Worries as he straightens up the already-clean living room, worries as he attempts to make a dinner to share.  
  
By the time 7:30 rolls around, and he hears a tap on the door, he is so tightly wound he feels like he will burst. _What does she expect from me? Is this a date? Is she going to want me to be her boyfriend now?_  
  
He opens the door with a shaky hand and blurts out, “Becky, I’m gay.”  
    
She giggles, and pushes past him to set an armload of movies down on the couch.  
  
“Of course you are,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I just wanted to hang out because I think you’re cool.”

“Oh,” he says, weakly. “But you kissed me.”  
    
She laughs again. “I kiss everyone, you goon. It’s just friendly. Haven’t you noticed?”  
  
Thinking back, he actually has. Becky and her female friends kiss each other’s cheeks in greeting when they met in the halls.  
  
“Do you really think I’m “cool”?” he hears himself blurt.  
  
“Of course, James,” she says, and gives him a quick hug. “You’re weird, and I like that.”  
  
He exhales, smiles. One more person down. One more person who knows who he is, and hasn’t yet rejected him. Who has, in fact, literally embraced him. The night is looking up after all.  
  
“So,” Becky says, rubbing her hands together, “what shall we watch?”  
  
They rifle through the movies together, and argue for awhile before they settle on Ratatouille. Cas doesn’t understand why a movie with a French title is about animated rats, but he enjoys it all the same. He likes listening to Becky laugh and commentate different parts of the movie. She apparently has most of it memorized.  
  
He makes--and burns--quesadillas for them, and Becky pulls out the popcorn she brought.  
  
They start another movie--this time, the Fifth Element, and Becky leans her head on Cas’s shoulder as they watch. He finds he doesn’t mind the touch. It reminds him of his sister Hester, actually. She is also blonde and cheerful, and she used to make him rub her back when she had had a long day at school. Sometimes she fell asleep on his shoulder, just like this.  
  
He leans back on the couch, and closes his eyes, just for a moment to relish the sensation and savor the memory of being back home.

The next thing he knows, it’s daylight, and someone is knocking loudly on the front door.  
  
He stretches, yawns, and pads over to open it, running a hand through his impossible hair.  
  
“Morning, champ!” Dean Winchester says brightly. He peers around the door and sees Becky sprawled on the couch. He winks. “Looks like you had a good night. Can I come in?”  
  
Cas sees the tool box and remembers that Dean was scheduled to work on the attic today.  
  
“Of course you may.” Cas tries for a hospitable tone, but he is groggy and cranky, and the words come out low and threatening.  
  
Dean looks him over. “You look like you need some coffee, man. And maybe a shower.”  
  
Cas nods, and shuffles off.  
  
Becky leaves when she wakes up, thanking a Cas for a fun night. “You really should join the Mathletes,” she says again, before she goes. This has become a daily refrain for her. “Think about it.”  
  
He nods, noncommittally and walks her to her car. He holds the door open like a proper gentleman, and ambles back inside.  
  
He stumbles to the kitchen for coffee, and suddenly realizes that he’s alone in a house with Dean Winchester. He creeps upstairs and offers Dean some of the coffee.  
  
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says with a grin. The beauty of that smile, directed straight at him, makes Cas feel a bit woozy.  
  
“Anytime,” he mumbles, and starts to hurry from the room.  
  
Unfortunately, he trips halfway to the ladder, and lands hard on a pile of scrap wood. Jagged splinters cut into his skin, and he yelps in surprise more than pain.    
  
Dean rushes over, cursing under his breath. He helps Cas sit up and checks him immediately for concussion, scanning his eyes and asking him about presidents.  
  
“I’m fine, Dean.” Cas waves him away, and tried to stand up. He immediately regrets the decision.  
  
“Easy there, cowboy,” Dean laughs. “Let me get you some vodka.”  
  
“I hardly think alcohol will improve my symptoms,” Cas observes dryly.  
  
“Not for you,” Dean laughs. “For your shoulder. Gotta clean those cuts somehow. I have a first aid kit in the car, but I’m outta sanitizer. Shitty excuse for an EMT, eh?”  
  
“You’re an Emergency Medical Technician?”  
  
“In training, yeah. But that’s not the point. Sit your woozy ass down while I go get supplies.”  
  
Cas looks down to find blood leaking from several large splinters embedded in his shoulder. A second wave of dizziness nearly knocks him to the floor. Again.  
  
“I’ll come right back,” Dean says. And he does, carrying a first aid kit, a fifth of vodka, and a juice box, of all things.  
  
Dean works quickly, with a rough grace that Castiel would love to memorize. Cas gets lost in the rhythm of Dean’s hands, as they lay out gauze, tweezers, needle, thread.  
  
Then Dean’s on his knees, at eye level, talking in soothing tones and explaining what he’s going to do.  
  
His bedside manner makes him--if possible--even more attractive, Cas thinks.  
  
Then Dean’s hands are on him, and he feels like he can’t breathe. Dean holds his arm steady with one hand while he works at the wood splinters with the tweezers on his right. Dean’s hands are rough, steady, calloused, kind. Cas thinks that those hands could keep him from floating away.  
  
“Ouch!” Cas yelps as Dean pulls out a particularly large splinter. And then another.  
  
“Don’t focus on it,” Dean says calm, reassuring, and Cas feels ridiculous that he needed to hear it.  
  
“Tell me about school, instead.”  
  
Cas laughs. “School sucks. It’s better than my last one though.”  
  
“Yeah? Why’s that?”  
  
“Well I--” he stops, reconsiders. In his woozy state, he had almost been honest. Had almost said that people here seem genuine, kind. That no one has ever treated him normally before. In the past they either ignored him, or sucked up because his family was rich and vaguely famous.  
  
Instead he says, carefully, “It’s simpler here. People seem more honest.”  
  
“How so?” Dean is stitching up a small gash now, working quickly with needle and thread. “What was your old school like?”  
  
“Different.”  
  
“Where are you from, anyway? You never said.”  
  
Cas laughs. “Far from here.”  
  
Dean finishes the stitches and ties off the thread. “That’s a pretty dodgy answer for someone who values honesty.”  
  
Cas blushes, avoids meeting his eyes. “I just haven’t talked about it, since I’ve been here. No one has really wanted to listen.”  
  
Dean considers him, and then gives him that smile. The one that would knock Cas on his ass if he wasn’t already sitting down. “Why don’t you tell me about it over dinner tonight?”  
  
“Oh I...um…” Cas feels his cheeks flame red, and suddenly doesn’t remember how to speak. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” He blurts out.

Dean grunts. “Was. He turned out to be a drama queen though. Besides,” he says, smiling, “it’s just dinner.”  
  
Cas feels his eyes go impossibly wide. _He?_ He thinks in triumph. _Dean Winchester is gay? Or bi or pan or whatever the hell Becky would call it?_  
  
“Um...sure.” He stammers out. “I eat. I mean...uh, yes.”  
  
Cas wishes that his legs were steady again, so that he could run away. He needs to vomit, to cheer, to cry with embarrassment and relief. Dean Winchester likes men, and maybe kind of sort of asked him out.  
  
But Dean is peering intently into his eyes. “You sure you’re okay there? You look a little green. Let me get you some ice water or something.”  
  
And then, blessedly, Dean leaves, and Cas is left to do all three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this story, Cas is 17, and Dean is 18, just fyi ;)


	6. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: cheesy schmoop ahead!

After Dean leaves, Cas frets.

He frets while he ransacks his closet for something to wear. He frets while he makes himself mac and cheese for lunch. He scrubs the counters, the cupboards, and the floor, all while counting the ways that tonight could go wrong.

_What if I say too much? Or, what if I can’t hold a normal conversation?_

He decides that the second possibility is far more likely, so he spends a solid hour with his black moleskin notebook, writing down and crossing out topics of conversation.

Everything he can think of to talk about seems either too trivial or too personal. How does one make conversation on a maybe/maybe-not date with someone like Dean?

At 3 o’clock he calls Gabe to cancel their evening plans.

“A date?” Gabe teases, when he hears the news. “A date with Winchester senior?”

“Not a date.” Cas hisses. “Just dinner.”

“Save it, Cassie,” Gabe says. “I know a boy crush when I see one. And damn if I wouldn’t tap me some Winchester ass.”

“Gabe!” Cas says, scandalized

“Oh don’t be a prude,” Gabe chides. “You know you’ve thought about it.”

And _that_ Castiel can’t deny.

Cas calls Becky next, frantic about his pathetic wardrobe.

“A date?” she squeals. “With Dean Winchester? Oh he is gorgeous. Too bad he’s always been out of my league. Hey, what do you have that I don’t, Milton?”

 _Sheer dumb luck, and the ability to injure myself in front of him_ , he thinks.

“He’s probably just being nice,” Cas says out loud. “Maybe he feels sorry for me, since I’m the new kid.”

“I never took Dean for a softie,” Becky muses. “Oh well. Sam’s cuter. So. How can I help?”

She helps him pick out an outfit via Skype--dark jeans and a deep blue polo that she says brings out his eyes. “You have such blue eyes, James,” she gushes. “Almost as pretty as eyes are in fanfiction.”

Cas doesn’t even ask anymore.

When they hang up, he goes back to worrying and trying to stay busy. He cleans the bathroom, organizes the bookshelf, even resorts to alphabetizing Gabe’s porn.

Just before 5:30, the doorbell rings.

He takes a deep breath, opens the door, and--

“Oh. Hello Sam.” He has to crane his neck to see all of his 6’4” best friend.

Sam, great big puppy dog that he is, beams at him. “Heya James. I mean Cas. How’s it going?”

“I am well, Sam. What brings you h--” but Sam has already pushed past him and is beelining for the kitchen. He pours and drinks an entire glass of water in one gulp before Cas has time to process what just happened.

“Sorry man,” Sam says, sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have eaten so many pretzels on the bus. I’m dying of thirst.”

“No, that’s fine. Always happy to help.” Cas offers him a soda, still confused, until he notices the calculus books in Sam’s hands.

_Oh._

It’s Saturday. He’d completely forgotten about his study date with Sam.

“Can I get you anything else?” Cas offers automatically while he tries to come up with a polite way to tell Sam to leave.

“Sure!” Sam says. “Do you have any of your brother’s cinnamon rolls left?”

Cas finds the plate and hands them to Sam. There’s another knock on the front door, and he opens it nervously and sees--

"Gabe?"

“Hey buddy,” Gabe says, slapping him on the shoulder. “Forgot my key. Where is your hot slice of man love?”  
  
“Gabe!” Cas hisses. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“It’s your first big date!” Gabe says, indignantly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”  
  
“It is not a d-- never mind. Just go away. Please.”  
  
Gabe cocks his head, smiles and winks. “Not a chance, buddy boy. I’ve got to interrogate him at the very least, don’t I? Big brotherly duty and all? Oh, hey Sam!”  
  
Gabe pushes past Cas and joins Sam in the kitchen.  
  
And then Dean Winchester appears.  
  
He looks like heaven and sex, sauntering up the driveway in jeans, a Rolling Stones shirt, and a faded leather jacket. He looks a little nervous, hands twisting in his pockets, but his face lights up when he sees Cas.  
  
 _I’m going to die,_ Cas thinks to himself. _I am actually, literally, going to die._  
  
Dean reaches the doorway and leans up against it, looking Cas up and down in one swift motion.  
  
“You ready?” he asks. “I’m starving.”  
  
“Yes,” Cas says. “Me too.” He tries to block Dean’s view of the kitchen and says hurriedly, “let me just get my coat.”  
  
He all but slams the front door in Dean’s face, but it is too late.  
  
“Hey Dean-o!” Gabe calls out. “Come on in!”  
  
Dean shoots Cas a confused look, but goes inside, taking in the sight of Gabe, Sam, and a large platter of cinnamon rolls.  
  
“Mmph?” Sam says, and then swallows. “Dean? What are you doing here?”  
  
“Good to see you too, Sammy.”    
  
“Jerk.”  
  
“Bitch.”  
  
“I came to pick up Cas for some grub. Am I early?”  
  
Cas hurries over and tries to whisk him out the door and away from any Gabe-related catastrophe can take place.  
  
“You’re right on time,” he assures Dean. “I had forgotten they were coming over. That’s all.”  
  
Sam looks between them, confused, until a light seems to go off in his head. He gives a little smile at Cas.

“It was my fault,” Sam says. “I forgot that we were supposed to study tomorrow, not tonight. No worries, I’ll just--”

“Why don’t we all eat here?” Gabe interrupts. “I’ll make my famous bacon buuuuurgers.” The last two words come out as a sing song.

Dean says, “Awesome! I never turn down a good burger. If it’s okay with Cas, that is.”

Cas nods meekly, not sure whether to be nervous or relieved.   


~

It shapes up to be a great evening. Cas and Dean make a salad-and-soda run on Sam's request, and they chat about nothing on the way. It’s nice, Cas thinks, talking about nothing with Dean. Easy.

Dinner is delicious. Cas knew that Gabe could cook, of course, but this time he pulled out the stops. Twice baked potatoes brimming with cheese, corn on the cob grilled to perfection, and the best bacon burgers that Cas has ever had.

They play rummy after dinner, and Cas is pretty sure that Gabe is cheating. No one should have that many face cards at once.

He doesn't care though. What could have been an awkward first date spent staring at his feet turned out to be alright after all. He’ll have to thank Gabe later for that.

After dinner, he and Dean do the dishes side by side, ignoring the cat calls they get from Gabe. Cas isn't sure if Dean is brushing up against him on purpose, body just a bit too close as they work at the sink...but he is sure that he doesn't mind.

At nine, Gabe decides to take Sam home. “North road, right?” he asks Sam. “It’s on my way to Kalli’s, so I might as well.”

Gabe winks at Cas when he leaves, and whispers, “Use a condom. They’re in my bedside table, along with a super-sized bottle of lube.”

“Gabe!” Cas says, scandalized. He pushes his brother out the door and turns to find Dean studying the newly full bookshelf. He studies him--the curve of his back, the way his thin t shirt outlines his chest.

“Dude! You have the Silmarillion! How did I not notice it when we carried these in?”

Cas recovers quickly from his shock. “You’re a Tolkien fan?”

“Yeah,” Dean smiles. “I started with the movies, but Sammy gave me the books for Christmas last year. That shit kicks ass. I’ve read everything except Children of Huran.”

Cas laughs, “You’re not missing much on that one.”

“That’s what Sammy said. Have you seen the movies?”

“One or two,” Cas admits. “My siblings and I did a marathon one night, but I think I fell asleep after Two Towers.”

Dean looks truly scandalized. “My house. Now. We’re going to watch Return of the King.”

“Tonight?” Cas squeaks, his throat suddenly dry.

“If you want to.” Dean looks suddenly shy. “I’ll drive you home after.”

“Okay,” Cas squeaks again, and tries to remember to breathe.

~

He’s in the impala, alone with Dean. Headed to Dean’s apartment, to watch a movie, alone with Dean.

Then he’s at Dean’s apartment, wandering around the small-but-tidy living room as Dean rummages through a box nearby.

Then he’s on the couch, right next to Dean, trying-and-mostly-failing to pay attention to the movie. He wants to run away. He wants to move closer. He wants to flirt, to have Dean flirt back, and know that he’s not just another name on a list of people that Dean will forget.

He’s lost in his thoughts when Dean suggests a popcorn break. They lean on the kitchen counter, side by side, listening to the kernels pop.

“May I ask you something, Dean?” Cas asks in a sudden gust of courage.

“‘Course.” Dean smiles.

“How long have you been out of the closet?”

Dean laughs. “Awhile, I guess. Started messing around with guys in high school, back when we lived up north. My dad was pissed when he found out.”

“Oh.”

“Does Bobby know?”

“Yeah.” Dean laughs, and it is fond and genuine. “Bobby knows. Says he doesn’t care as long as I don’t talk about sex at dinner. Bobby’s cool like that.”

Cas smiles. “Is it hard, being out in Kansas?”

“Depends on where you are. Lawrence seems pretty chill, for the most part. Do I get a question now?”

“That seems only fair.”

“Is your family in the mafia?”

Cas laughs. “Nope. Guess again.”

“The CIA?”

“Really, Dean? What kind of movies do you watch?”

“Hey now,” Dean protests. “No one moves to Kansas unless they are old, looking to farm, or running away from the mob. It’s a well known fact.”

“Do I look like a farmer or a mob member to you?”

“Fair point. Why are you here then?”

“I can’t, I couldn’t…” Cas hesitates, debates with himself. Coming out as gay to Dean would be one thing--he’s pretty sure Dean knows at this point, and it’s not like he would judge him anyway--but coming out as a Novak? The Novaks are known worldwide, and generally either loved or hated for their religious teachings.

Dean gives him time to think. He slides to the floor, back against the old wood cabinets, and Cas does the same. The microwave beeps, but they ignore it.

What if Dean judges him? What if he sells him out to the press? He doesn’t seem like the type to do that, though, so Cas decides to take the plunge.

“I’m...I’m a Novak, Dean.”

Dean looks genuinely confused. “A what?”

“A Novak.”

“What’s a Novak?”

Cas gapes. “World-famous televangelists? On TV like, every hour on the hour?”

“Not ringing any bells dude. I don’t even get cable here.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“So...what. Your family is a great big bag of dicks, or something?”

Cas laughs. “Homophobic, is all. They kicked me out when I came out, and now I’m here.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Gabe’s good to you, though?”

Cas smiles. “Yeah. He took me in, got me into school. Introduced me to you.” Cas blushes, drops his eyes.

“I’m one lucky guy,” Dean winks. “I should thank him for that.”

“Popcorn’s done,” Cas mumbles, and stands up to get it. Dean follows him, spins him around, pins him against the fridge. Suddenly his hands are cupping Cas’s cheeks, and his face is only an inch away.

Cas’s eyes go wide. “Dean!” he squeaks, and pulls away.

Dean steps back, hands held out in a gesture of peace. “Whoa, whoa, sorry dude. I thought that we were...never mind. My bad.”

“It’s not you. It’s just that…” Cas stops, stares at the floor. “I’ve never really kissed anyone before.” He hesitates, then looks up, shyly. “I wouldn’t mind, though.”

“Yeah?” Dean grins, steps back into his space. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

The kiss is soft, sweet at first. Dean’s lips are full, gorgeous, and Cas loves the first touch. Dean cups his face, shows Cas how to turn his head to just the right angle. Then he stops, pulls back.

“How was that? That okay?” Dean asks. Cas nods, and reaches up for another kiss. Dean’s hands are on his face again, rough palms gentle against his cheeks. Cas kisses back, sloppy at first but quickly learning to match Dean’s rhythm with his own. Then Dean’s hands are on his hips, slotting their bodies close together, and Cas’s entire body is on fire. He lets the fear and shame and loneliness of the last three months roll off him like rain and lets himself get lost in deandeandean.

Cas wants more. More skin, more contact, more _Dean_. He slides his hands to the small of Dean’s back, just under the shirt. Dean smiles into the kiss and moves closer.

Then Cas is tugging Dean’s shirt off, letting his fingers run over the amulet Dean always wears, tracing the tattoo over his heart. Cas kisses it, soft and tentative, and Dean makes the best noise he’s ever heard. He tries again, and smiles at the result.

Dean lets him explore, doesn’t move or push him as Cas licks and touches his way across his chest.

“Dean,” Cas whispers. “Would it be alright to go to your bedroom?”

Dean laughs. “So formal, Cas. 'Course we can.” He leads the way.

In the bedroom, Dean lays down and pulls Cas on top of him. Cas relishes the new contact. He starts trying out things that he has seen in movies or read in books; he kisses Dean’s neck, works his way up to his earlobes, relishes the moans. 

Then Dean pushes him away, gently, and Cas pulls back, confused.

“Did I do something wrong?” Cas asks.

“No, no. You’re perfect. It’s just...I don’t want to push you too far, you know? I mean you’d never even been kissed before…” he trails off. “I’ll do whatever you want, seriously, teach you anything you want to know, but you gotta tell me what’s okay, you know? Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Cas nods, solemnly, lays down beside Dean, and pulls the other boy on top of him. “Your turn,” he grins, and suddenly Dean’s hands are everywhere. Up his shirt, over his chest, thumbs rubbing on nipples, making him sigh.

“Keep going,” Cas tells Dean.

And he does.

~


	7. Interlude: Good morning to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shower sex, basically, with Dean POV. Dean's got some issues of his own to work out.
> 
> I know I've been away for like, months, and I'm really sorry for that. I have about 2-3 chapters left and I promise I will finish this some day :)

That night, Castiel dreams of home, of picnics and trampolines in the backyard, of his parents when they still smiled at him.

He wakes up in his boxers, next to Dean Winchester. The night before comes back in pieces, and it all feels surreal. Dean had undressed him slowly, carefully, watching for Cas's small nod of permission before removing each new piece of clothing. And Cas had been revealed piece by piece, had been touched and kissed in entirely new ways. And he had decided that maybe coming out of the closet had been a good accidental-decision after all.

It had been so long since he felt truly taken care of. Ever since being kicked out of his parents house, he had felt like he was on his own, forced to grow up too fast. But last night Dean gave him a chance to rest.

And then taught him how to return the favor.

Boxers had stayed firmly on, though, because when Dean had already taken off socks and shoes and shirt and pants, after getting a small nod for each, Cas didn't nod when it came to his boxers.

So they kissed instead, skin to skin, touching every where they could, and then fell asleep like that.

Dean is snoring now, next to him, so Cas slides quietly out of bed and heads for the bathroom to wash his face. He decides to go on a coffee run to to the bakery next door.

When he returns, black coffee and bagels in hand, he finds Dean slumped over the kitchen table, still snoring, as if he had tried to get up and comically failed. 

Dean look up, bleary eyed and vaguely distressed. "The coffee maker didn't work," he laments in a petulant voice. Then he sees the gifts in Cas's arms and brightens considerably. 

"My hero," he mumbles.

~

Once he is properly caffeinated, Dean is ready to start the day. He tells Cas he's on the schedule at Bobby's garage, gives him a long, lazy morning kiss, and heads for the shower.

He expects the dying-cat sounds that the shower head makes when it's turned on. He expects the grey-brown water that comes out for the first 30 seconds. He does not expect to hear a knock on the door, or to see Cas's wild black hair poking around the corner.

"May I come in?" Cas asks, timidly.

Dean smirks. "Come on in, babe. The water's fine."

Cas comes around the corner and, to Dean's surprise, beings to strip quickly and deftly, like a man on a mission. Then he's pulling back the clear curtain and joining Dean in the shower.

"Hey good lookin'" Dean says, trying to sound much more casual than he feels. The truth is he's nervous, and he never gets nervous when it comes to sex.

Sex to Dean is always easy, straightforward. There are techniques to practice, lines to use, categories for everything to keep himself safe.

Because the truth is, Dean has never before slept with someone he wanted to see the next morning. And Cas? Well, it's new, but he's pretty sure he would like him to stick around.

Cas looks nervous but determined. "Hey," he says shyly. "I was thinking I could help you out." He tries to wink, but it comes out more as a squint.

Dean grins. "'Course, baby. Anything you want." He puts his hands on Cas's waist, pulls him in for a kiss. Cas comes forward easily, blinking when the spray hits his face. Dean is a little worried by how adorable he finds it.

He quickly forgets to think, though, when Cas pulls him closer and nips his neck, then his collarbone, and begins to kiss his way down his chest. Dean watches, surprised, as Cas's kisses reach lower and lower.

Then Cas stops--actually stops--when he reaches Dean's cock, and furrows his brow. He turns his head to the side and studies it like it's goddam calculus, the looks up at Dean, clearly lost.

Dean laughs and pulls Cas to his feet. "Let me show you how it's done, baby."

He slides to his knees, waits for the nod. Then he's taking Cas's cock in his mouth, bobbing slowly and swirling his tongue as he goes. He looks up to see Cas quiet, eyes closed and leaning up against the white tile. Dean decides that his goal for the morning is to get this clean-cut preacher's son to swear.

So he goes to town. Tries every trick he's ever learned, but still no swearing from Cas. Plenty of "oh Dean"s and "please more"s though, so he figures he's doing alright.

Then he takes a break, pulls Cas against him on the opposite wall, takes both their cocks together in one hand and runs his other over Cas's ass. 

And then Cas is coming, thick stripes that hit Dean's leg and are quickly washed away. 

Dean is still hard, and aching for Cas, and hoping he's not yet in over his head. 

 _Cas can still get out_ , he thinks. _Still get away from me before I have the chance to hurt him the way I hurt everyone who has ever been in this shower with me._

He's descending into a darker and darker head space, and he knows it, but he doesn't know how to save himself from it. And he's so wrapped up in his darkening thoughts that he barely registers Cas's content smile, barely sees the way Cas slumps against the wall, boneless and content.

But he doesn't miss the magic word. 

"Fuck," Cas mumbles, and it's happy, and sedated, spoken low and deep. "Fuck that was good."

And it's enough to bring Dean out of his trance, and remind him that maybe everything will be okay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so good with penis-oriented sex, if you couldn't tell. First try though, so I'll get there eventually.
> 
> Next up: Dean and Cas have some things to work out.


End file.
